


Gifts

by vix_spes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is thoroughly confused when his rent starts appearing in his bank account from an unknown source...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt: Mycroft shows his appreciation by buying things. John does not know what to do in response to his rent being paid when he thought he was just helping out Sherlock and saving his life a few times. Bonus points if “Anthea” suggests they could always make alternative purchases (clothing, food, highly inappropriate or embarrassing items) next time.

The first time that it happened John was more than slightly perturbed. He didn’t have a job yet and he knew exactly when his army pension was paid into his bank account and how much he got. So, when the exact amount of money needed to pay his rent appeared in his account he was more than a little suspicious. After all, he had turned down Mycroft’s offer of a meaningful amount of money. But then, after looking at all the facts as logically as he could, one of the Holmes brothers had to be responsible. It didn’t take him long to discount Sherlock. The man obviously had money from somewhere but he had needed a flatmate to be able to afford 221b in the first place so he wouldn’t be able to pay John’s rent as well as his own. Besides, he got the feeling that had it been Sherlock he wouldn’t have been remotely subtle about it, he would have simply told John. That left Mycroft. The fact that it had come from an unnamed, unspecified bank account only added to his suspicions. What could he do though? He could hardly contact Mycroft, particularly seeing as he and Sherlock were supposedly arch-enemies, and what would he say? Ask why he had paid his rent? He could see that going down about as well as a lead balloon. Besides, he had no desire of losing this flat just after he’d moved in; 221b Baker Street was a damn sight better than where he had been living. Despite the fact that his pride was screaming at him to try and return the money he decided not to. It was one thing to turn down the money from Mycroft that had been offered as a bribe to inform on Sherlock but it was something completely different to accept money for rent. At least that was how he consoled himself.

The second time that it happened John was even less prepared for the exact amount needed for his rent to appear in his bank account. The first time it had happened he had managed to explain it away as he had to survive on his army pension with no other income. That wasn’t the case now; he had some work with the surgery and he would easily be able to take care of his share of the rent. Admittedly it would ease the pressure on other payments such as the bills, food (for all Sherlock didn’t eat during cases he was ravenous when they ended) and damages to the flat (they still owed Mrs Hudson for Sherlock’s latest experiment spattering acid all over the walls) but he just couldn’t understand why Mycroft was doing it. Okay, so he had shot the taxi driver and technically saved Sherlock from committing suicide, he tried to make sure that Sherlock ate and slept when he didn’t have a case (and wasn’t that like dealing with a recalcitrant child or at his worst like a toddler in the middle of his terrible twos) and he put up with the random drugs busts courtesy of D.I. Lestrade, the eyeballs in the microwave, the severed fingers in the fridge and the cocaine in the toaster. With all of these things combined with the skull, the playing the violin at all hours of the day and night plus the various experiments all over the kitchen he was fairly positive that Sherlock had never had a flatmate before. If he had then who knew what had happened to them; probably run away screaming hoping to get as far as away from the self-confessed sociopath as possible. Maybe that was why Mycroft was paying his rent? Maybe in his own way, Mycroft was trying to be protective of his baby brother. He was paying John’s rent to ensure that John remained at 221b with Sherlock despite the severed body parts, the drugs busts, the drugs and the psychotic man child himself.

The third time, it wasn’t just his rent that John received from Mycroft. Sherlock had been released from hospital, a private hospital courtesy of Mycroft and the British government (there was absolutely no way that Mycroft Holmes was simply a minor figure in the British government) and judging by the text messages was already on a case and pestering Lestrade incessantly. Of course Sherlock probably shouldn’t be running around London when he’d only recently added in hospital but with John still in hospital he couldn’t enforce any rules on Sherlock’s behaviour and Mrs Hudson couldn’t control him at all. This month had potentially been the most stressful since he had moved in with Sherlock, even though the previous month he had been mistaken for Sherlock and his girlfriend nearly killed. Mycroft’s contribution to his rent was much appreciated though. Particularly seeing as this month there were a lot of damages that had to be paid to Mrs Hudson what with the bomb and then Sherlock’s boredom resulting in a series of bullet holes in their living room wall.

As he walked out of the hospital he saw the not wholly unexpected black Mercedes waiting for him, no doubt with Anthea and her ever-present Blackberry in the back. He had tried to get a response from Mycroft about the rent while Sherlock was in Belarus (and wouldn’t get annoyed or overly proprietary) but the man was so non-committal that he couldn’t get a straight answer out of him (that man definitely wasn’t a minor figure in the British government, he probably ran the Secret Intelligence Service or something) and then the elder Holmes had been completely concerned with the Bruce-Partington plans. He completely ignored the car and made his way to the road in order to hail a cab. When one arrived he settled into it, not noticing when they were overtaken by the car that had been waiting for him. When he arrived back at Baker Street he paid the cab driver and got out only to stop in the middle of the pavement and stare in shock at the parcel sat innocently on the doorstep.

He hated to say that he had grown used to suspicious packages turning up since he had started living with Sherlock (normally the boxes were filled with various body parts that Sherlock had conned out of some innocent at Bart’s) but after their run-in with Moriarty he was rather more wary. He approached it cautiously only to be thoroughly confused when he saw that it was a box that looked disturbingly like one of the ones that he had seen in Sherlock’s room on occasion and it had a card on the top with his name on it. Debating the pros and cons he finally decided to take the risk and take it inside with him. After all, he had done riskier things since returning from Afghanistan. Once inside the flat he debated whether to open the box first or the note. His curiosity got the better of him and he lifted the lid off the box before reading the note and instantly realised where he recognised the box from; it obviously came from the tailors favoured by the Holmes brothers.

Pulling it out to have a proper look, he saw that it was a coat made of a heavy and obviously expensive material and was incredibly well-cut, no doubt tailored to fit him perfectly (he really didn’t want to think about how they had got hold of his measurements) but not the same as either of their coats, the styles of which would make him look ridiculous. Laying the coat over the back of his chair, he reached for the lid of the box and pulled the card out of the envelope. The weight and quality of the paper gave it away as to who it was from and that was even before he saw the handwriting (pen and ink of course) that was becoming familiar.

_‘Anthea was of the opinion that this would be of use to you given recent happenings. MH’_

This was becoming more and more ridiculous as it went on. He simply didn’t understand why he was being paid and receiving gifts simply for being Sherlock’s flatmate. Okay, and maybe saving his life a few times. Then again, he wasn’t sure he would ever understand the inner workings of a brain belonging to either of the Holmes brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/52699.html)


End file.
